


Adequate Stimulation

by Laylah



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Danger, Desk Sex, M/M, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-14
Updated: 2007-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Right now,” Kimberly says, “if you don’t mind.” The flex of his fingers might not even be a deliberate threat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adequate Stimulation

Archer has given strict orders that he is not to be disturbed this morning, so when the door clicks open anyway, he isn’t surprised to see that it’s Kimberly who’s come to bother him.

“Was there something you needed, Lieutenant Colonel?”

Kimberly smiles, that sharp jagged expression that makes his yellow eyes look more wolfish than usual. “Entertainment,” he says. “I’m bored. Sir.”

Archer’s lips twitch. Kimberly has a way of obeying formalities to the letter while thoroughly violating them in spirit that _should_ be infuriating, but somehow manages to be compelling instead. There’s a reminder implicit in Kimberly’s every genial word: he doesn’t _need_ to be rude, because he’s always lethally armed, and rarely restrained in the application of force.

“I’m sorry if you haven’t felt…adequately stimulated…since you returned to the military,” Archer says. “I promise you, things will improve as soon as we leave for Lior.”

Kimberly shakes his head. “Isn’t there anything more you could do for me, sir?” He comes closer, and Archer sets down his pen. “Couldn’t you provide me with,” he smirks as he parrots the phrase, “adequate stimulation?”

Archer’s heart pounds as Kimberly comes around the desk; he pushes his chair back, intending to stand, and Kimberly leans forward, bracing one booted foot on the arm of the chair to keep him down. “I’m not a mind reader, Lieutenant Colonel,” Archer says, gratified that his voice remains calm. “If there’s something in particular you’re looking for, you’ll have to say so directly.”

He still isn’t prepared for Kimberly’s blunt reply: “I’d like you to fuck me.”

“You’d,” Archer begins, and stops. “Right now?” It’s not that he’s never considered it; he prefers the strength and power of a male partner, and Kimberly is an exemplary specimen in that regard. But the circumstances….

“Right now,” Kimberly says, “if you don’t mind.” The flex of his fingers might not even be a deliberate threat.

“I’m at work,” Archer protests, before he can help himself. “My secretary –”

Kimberly laughs. “That little mouse is scared enough of just you. There’s no way she’ll let anyone in to interrupt _both_ of us.”

Archer looks past Kimberly at the paperwork on his desk. The supply lines for the increased military presence in the east still need to be finalized, and dedicated trains for personnel transport need to be requisitioned…. “I can spare you half an hour.”

“Generous of you,” Kimberly says, leaning back against the desk, kicking his boots off. He reaches back and moves the stack of papers Archer had been working his way through, setting them aside carefully enough that they might not even be too much trouble to reorganize later.

“It is,” Archer agrees, stroking himself through his uniform as he watches Kimberly unbutton his pants. “There’s a lot of hard work that goes into designing an exciting war for you.”

Kimberly smiles, and the expression looks as much surprised as pleased. Archer suspects that few people have ever bothered to flirt with him before. “Believe me, Colonel, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t,” Archer says, when Kimberly reaches up to unfasten the clasp of his jacket. “Leave it on.”

“Got a thing for the uniform? Should I keep calling you sir?”

Archer smiles back; it’s been a long time since anyone bothered to flirt with him, either. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Kimberly leans back against the desk, shirt half-unbuttoned, jacket askew, cock flushed and hard. “How do you want me, then, sir?”

 _This was your idea_ , Archer almost reminds him, but he suspects it might turn the banter unfriendly. “On your back,” he says instead, standing and beginning to unbutton his pants. “And I hope you brought something to make yourself more comfortable.”

“What,” Kimberly says, “you’re not prepared? I’m disappointed in you.” But he reaches into the pocket of his jacket all the same.

“I don’t tend to fuck on duty,” Archer replies, and watches hunger spark in Kimberly’s eyes at the vulgarity.

“I’m the exception to the rule, then,” Kimberly says, leaning back on the desk, raising his legs.

“I should think you’d be used to that,” Archer says as he opens the little bottle Kimberly provided. “How much preparation do you need?”

Kimberly shrugs. “Slick your cock. I’ll be fine.”

Archer raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment; he’ll be fine either way, and the idea of taking Kimberly when he hasn’t been stretched open at all is extremely appealing. The oil warms quickly as he strokes it over the length of his cock, and when Archer steps up to the desk Kimberly braces his hands on his thighs, holding himself spread.

“Come on, give it to me,” Kimberly says, and grins. “Sir.”

“Anything to alleviate your boredom,” Archer says, and he can’t quite keep the little smile from twisting the corner of his mouth. He presses the head of his cock to Kimberly’s hole, feeling the tension of muscle almost unwilling to yield, then takes a deep breath and pushes.

Kimberly makes a sharp, harsh noise, hissing in breath with a grimace, and Archer stops moving.

“Not quite as fine as you expected to be?”

Kimberly’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, a quick flash of pink, and then he gives Archer his hungry mad-dog smile. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t _hurt_ ,” he says. “I just don’t _mind_.” He drops one hand to his cock, and Archer realizes that he’s still hard despite the pain. “I asked you to fuck me, sir. Go on. Do it. I want to feel it when I walk out of here. I want to feel it tomorrow.”

There’s a report in the file on the Crimson Alchemist—Archer knows the entire file by heart—of an incident in the Ishvar war in which Kimberly took a bullet in the shoulder, early in an engagement with the enemy. According to the report, the injury energized him; he eliminated the rest of the rebel forces in the area single-handedly and remained in good spirits, despite the fact that he was bleeding heavily, until he lost consciousness in the personnel convoy on the way back to camp.

That, Archer realizes, is the killer he’s fucking now.

He braces his hands on Kimberly’s thighs to steady himself and thrusts in hard. Kimberly snarls, back arching, his ass clenching reflexively as his body tries to defend itself. Archer ignores that this time, thrusting in again, and Kimberly makes another sound that’s almost full-throated enough to be a moan.

“Quietly,” Archer says, smiling. “Wouldn’t want my poor secretary to think she should call for help, to keep you from killing me.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kimberly says, and his voice is tight, almost strained. “I think that could be entertaining.” But he still swallows the noise he makes on Archer’s next thrust, his hand starting to move on his cock, his breathing harsh and clipped.

Archer holds on tight, his fingers digging into the muscle of Kimberly’s legs, and sets a hard, steady pace. The hot clutch of Kimberly’s ass around his cock is perfect, barely yielding enough for him to move, and as much as he tries to keep silent he can’t entirely stop the soft sounds of hungry pleasure that well up in his throat.

“Fuck, you — god,” Kimberly says. “You’re just as fucking thorough about this as — aah — everything else.” He’s rocking his hips now, like he’s encouraging Archer to use him this roughly, and the rhythm of his hand on his cock is becoming erratic.

“You expected,” Archer retorts, “something different?” But he doesn’t have much breath to spare, gritting his teeth now as he tries to hold off until he’s felt Kimberly come. “Finish,” he says, driving in deep.

Kimberly shudders under him, squeezing his eyes shut, teeth bared as he strains for it. “Is that, ah, an order, sir?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Archer growls, and Kimberly makes a thin angry sound like a wounded animal and comes, trying to catch the mess in his hands so he doesn’t soil his uniform, and then his eyes snap back open flat and rabid when Archer keeps fucking him: “Come,” Kimberly demands, “or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Archer couldn’t refuse if he wanted to. He drives in deep and lets go, still meeting Kimberly’s eyes as orgasm wracks him, leaves him spent and gasping and uncomfortably aware of Kimberly’s smile.

“Well,” Kimberly drawls. “You _are_ good at curing boredom, Colonel.”

Archer smiles tightly. “I do my best,” he says. He pulls out, and Kimberly winces. They’re both a mess, the room reeks of sex, and Archer doesn’t know how he’s going to focus enough to get any more work done at his desk, after putting it to such unorthodox use.

And yet, he thinks as he looks at the pleasure flush on Kimberly’s face, the morning hasn’t really been wasted.


End file.
